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myhomeiswriting · 6 months

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Pat, Pengy & The Thing in the Closet 2010 edition

There’s something in the closet; something with teeth, and a desire to bite.

Pat sits in bed with the lamp on beside her, casting the room in a yellow glow. The quilt is pulled up to her chin and only her fingers with their chipped polish and her wide-eyed stare is visible. Her heart slams a beat inside her throat, dancing a jig upon her uvula that makes her want to puke. She heard it scratching against the wood; heard it scratching, scratching, scratching even through the dense darkness of unconsciousness. The scratching is what woke her. It sounded like Pengy’s claws when he scratches on her bedroom door to be let out or in. And speaking of Pengy, he jumps lithely upon the bed without a sound, and it startles her so much her teeth click together with a snap that rattles her entire jaw. Pengy looks at her with bright, intelligent green eyes and waows.

"You scared me, you stupid cat." Pat hisses, and scratches behind Pengy’s ears. His back arches and his tail curls into a question mark as he closes his eyes and the motor in his throat purrs to life.

His name is Pengy because of the white stripe that starts under his chin and travels down his chest and over his belly. His name is Pengy because when she was a child (not that she’s much older now, 12 isn’t that old) she thought he looked a bit like a penguin and her father, laughing, agreed. Pengy curls into a ball with his paws tucked underneath him as she scratches behind his ears, glancing sideways at her bedroom door. She didn’t remember leaving it open but she must have. How else could he have gotten in? She looks down at Pengy as fresh fear trills down her spine and gooseflesh erupts along her arms.

"Can you open doors now, Pengy?" Pat asks in a whisper. She doesn’t want the thing in the closet to hear her. She doesn’t want it to resume scratching, or worse, begin calling her name. The motor in Pengy’s throat thrums along at a steady pace, reminding her that as long as she keeps scratching Pengy won’t listen to a word she has to say.

Her fingers cease scratching and Pengy’s head tips back as he looks up at her with his big green eyes; I never said stop. He nudges her hand laying in front him with his rough triangle nose but she doesn’t notice; she’s staring across the room at the closet door. The something in the closet has begun to speak. It’s whispering through the crack beneath the door in a foreign tongue she doesn’t recognize, and yet at the same time she knows she’s heard before.

(patefacio ianua mihi , parvulus. patefacio ianua quod permissum mihi sicco.)

Pat yanks the quilt back up, and sends Pengy rolling. He lands on his feet and throws an ugly look at Pat before jumping off the bed. He lands almost silently, but she can hear the muffled thud of his padded feet hitting the wood. For a moment she can’t see Pengy, he’s hidden by the edge of the bed, but he comes back into view as he walks towards the closet, whip-like tail swishing through the air. He pads silently closer as the voice grows stronger.

"No, Pengy!" She exhales breathlessly, dropping the quilt from her face, momentarily forgetting her fear. He doesn’t hear her or he chooses not to listen because he continues walking towards the closet, ears perked forward inquisitively. She crawls on her hands and knees to the edge of her bed.

"Pengy!" She whispers louder, adding a touch of authority. He pauses and tips his head to the side, considering the closet door. "Get back here right now!" She orders urgently as fear nestles itself inside her stomach. The thing in the closet has gotten louder, but the worst part is that it’s starting to make sense now. She can almost understand what its saying and she doesn’t like that. She shouldn’t be able to understand it at all. The only language she knows is English, and what it’s speaking isn’t English, it’s guttural, and somehow poetic.

(Open the door, child. Open the door and let me out.)

Pengy steps tentatively forward once more and Pat throws her legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet striking the wood floor loud enough to make Pengy jump and look over his arched back at her. The voice in the closet goes silent as her feet hit the floor. Everything freezes for a moment, waiting. Through clenched teeth she whispers and points to the space on the floor beside her bare feet, "Get. Over. Here. Now!" She hisses through clenched teeth.

Pengy, who is turned halfway around to face her, merely considers her with those big green eyes, the tip of his tail flopping back and forth; make me, his posture suggests. Fury blends with the fear inside her stomach, boiling the acids like a pot of noodles. She points to the spot beside her once again, angrily, and speaks louder.

"Come here, now!" Pat says.

Pengy pads his way over to her and weaves around her legs, arching his back and flicking his question mark tail; don’t be mad, I was only kidding. She bends down and picks him up then crawls back into bed, throwing the quilt over both of them. Pengy climbs upon her belly and pokes his head out from under the quilt and waows once. She scratches behind his ears as his tail flits across her belly and the motor purrs to life once more.

The thing in the closet begins scratching at the door again. Pat hums quietly to herself as she scratches behind Pengy’s ears, listening to his sounds of contentment. The charm works and after a while she can no longer hear the thing scratching at the door anymore.

It won’t last though. It always comes back.

She lies that way with Pengy on her chest purring, feeling the motor in his throat thrum against her own chest as she scratches behind his ears. His furry warmth causes her eyes lids to dip into unconsciousness as the sun begins winking over the horizon. Sleep tugs at her eye lashes as she fights to stay awake, but she’s losing as her hand slips from behind Pengy’s ears and falls limp at her side. Pengy looks at her with dull consideration for a moment before resting his head upon his paws and closing his eyes.

The thing in the closet has gone silent, for now.

Pat stands inside the doorway of her new bedroom holding a box of clothes, on top of which Pengy sits with his tail curled around his paws. She smiles at the emptiness of the room staring back at her; it isn’t familiar and that makes it welcome. Her bed frame sits on the far wall facing the only window looking down at the front walk. There are no curtains or shades to hide the pre-winter light shining through the square panes. Beside the window sits a simple wooden desk painted white. There’s a glass cover on top under which pictures may be placed for safe keeping and viewing. The walls are bare white and the floor is carpeted in slate and cardboard boxes. She walks over to the bed and sets the oblong box down upon the bare mattress. Pengy jumps down and begins sniffing out his favorite spot. Pat turns from the box to face the closet and a shiver runs down her spine. The door doesn’t look much different from the one in her old room. Same white paint, same brass doorknob, but this is a different room. There’s nothing in there, Pat tells herself as she walks over to the door. Her hand hesitates above the doorknob (but suppose it travels) and then she grabs it and turns it fiercely to dispel the maddening thought, and opens the door to reveal a stark naked closet with a shelf up top and a rack upon which to hang clothes. Pat laughs nervously to herself and Pengy winds himself around her ankles, waowing his own laughter; silly Pat, there’s no monsters in this closet. She bends down and rubs a hand along his back which he arches in response.

"We’ve got a lot of unpacking to do, Peng." Pat said.

He looks up at her with his green-orb eyes; what do you mean ‘we,’ you’re on your own pal. He stalks off towards the window and leaps upon the ledge where he sits with his tail swinging back and forth like the pendulum in a grandfather clock. Pat shakes her head as she goes over to the box and begins unpacking.

At five o’clock Pat has unpacked everything that belongs to her and officially claimed her room. Her bed is made up with her plaid comforter, her clothes are hung in her closet (which is currently open), her desk supplies have been shoved in one of the three drawers, and her alarm clock sits beside her bed on the end table; the only thing that remains are the pictures to be put under the glass on her desk. She’ll save that for after dinner.

Pat walks passed the bathroom on her right (her bathroom which she’ll set up later as well) and down the short hallway to her mother’s room. The door is open halfway and Pat sticks her head in cautiously. Her mother is nowhere to be seen and that momentarily frightens her.

"Mom?" She calls as she enters the room, pushing the door inward slowly.

There’s a gargling noise from the master bathroom and Pat walks over to the open door. Dolores Stenson stands at the sink with an orange pill bottle open on the counter. Pat can’t read the label but she knows it must be one of the drugs prescribe by the doctor. Dolores swallows her pills and looks at her daughter with basset hound eyes. She’s aged much too fast in the intervening years and Pat knows it but she’s powerless to stop it. Where her lively, beautiful mother once stood with her raven-colored hair and bouncing grey eyes now stands a woman whose hair has begun to gray rapidly at the roots and whose face has lined with age most people don’t achieve until they’re sixty-five.

"What?" He mother croaks impatiently.

"I was just wondering if you wanted supper." Pat replies timidly, gazing off at the wall. She can’t bear to look at her mother this way.

"No, now leave me alone. I need to sleep." Dolores says capping her bottle of pills. She starts to put them away in the medicine cabinet then, thinking better of it, takes them with her. She flicks off the bathroom light and crawls into bed. Pat watches from the doorway, wanting to say something, knowing it’s best just to keep her silence. Dolores crawls under the covers (her bed is made but the rest of the room is littered with unpacked boxes) and shoos her daughter with a blind hand.

"If you’re hungry go make a pizza." Dolores says groggily. The pills are all ready beginning to have an effect. This has been the perpetual state of her mother for the last six years.

"Ok." Pat responds meekly and turns off the light as she leaves. She closes her mother’s bedroom door slowly and Pengy pads over to her from across the hall. Pat stoops to pick him up, placing him atop her shoulders where he crouches like a tiger, and heads downstairs.

In the kitchen she transfers him from her shoulders to the counter where he sits with his tail curled around his paws. She raises her finger to her lips in a Shhhh gesture and opens up the cabinet above both their heads. She pulls down a bag of cat treats and Pengy’s eyes brighten as he waows quietly. Pat smiles as she opens the re-sealable package and the smell of dried fish wafts from the bag. Her nose wrinkles as she pulls out two dried X-shaped treats and hands them to Pengy. He nips them from her palm with acute precision, his rough tongue reminding her of a gravel road.

Pengy crunches down the two treats in a matter of seconds and looks at Pat, more please. Pat reaches into the bag and pulls out two more, she holds them away from his nose as she leans in to talk.

"This is it, this is all you get, so enjoy them." She says as Pengy nudges her curled fist with his nose in dog-like behavior. "You’re so grabby." Pat says chuckling to herself as she opens her palm and Pengy gobbles down the last two treats. She re-seals the bag and puts it back in the cabinet, closing the door on its squeaky hinges slowly. Silence is a state her mother prefers, and Pat intends to keep it that way.

Instead of pizza she takes a macaroni meal from the freezer, pulls it out of the box, punches holes in the plastic cover with her fork, and pops it into the microwave for a minute and thirty seconds. She leans against the counter and waits for the timer to ding. The kitchen is nothing more than a square alcove off the entryway leading into the larger living/dining room. The wooden floor is slick enough for her to slide over in her sock feet like a professional skater. There’s no dinner table, only a bar that acts like a window into the living room. She can see through the patio door on the far wall to the man-made pond out back and wonders if there’s fish inside it for Pengy to catch.

The microwave dings and Pat pulls out her dinner; she rips the cover back and steam issues from the bubbling macaroni in a cloud. With her macaroni in one hand and Pengy under the other arm Pat walks into the living room, turns the TV on low, and eats her dinner while Pengy sits beside her, watching the fork from the plastic tray to her mouth.

Pat sets the empty microwavable tray aside with her plastic fork, pulls Pengy into her lap, and stares enraptured as images flash by on the muted TV, absently stroking the soft, silky fur at the top of Pengy’s head. All around them the house is silent as Pat barely breathes, falling into an unconscious stupor. After a while her head begins to loll forward, her chin resting up her chest. Pat jerks awake, startling herself and Pengy, who turns his head back around to give her an impatient stare; seriously?

“Sorry, Peng; I guess it’s time for bed.” Pat says yanking a cream colored afghan off the back of the couch, laying down, and pulling it over the both of them. She is just long enough to still fit under the whole blanket, but in another year her toes will stick out and she’ll be cold when she wears this blanket. Pengy lies curled into a little ball of furnace heat upon her flat chest. He opens one eye halfway as she pulls the blanket over them, and then goes back to sleep, or at least feigning it. They fall asleep that way as the muted TV acts as a nightlight keeping the monsters in the dark at bay.

Around midnight Pat awakens from a deep slumber to find Pengy sleeping curled upon her chest. She’s grateful for the warmth of his furry body because the room is freezing cold. Pat rubs sleep from her eyes and looks around. The TV is blank but she could swear she fell asleep with it on. Her eye automatically moves to the right where the patio door has been left open, admitting October chill. Pat sits up suddenly and Pengy rolls to the floor with an angry waow. He lands on his feet and looks up at Pat; what was that for? But her attention is locked on the patio door and the moonlight filtering in through the glass. She knows she never opened that door.

With quiet deliberation Pat moves over the wooden floor in her sock feet, gliding rather than walking, and stands inside the door, peering out. Pengy stands in between her legs, curious eyes peering into the dark, and his tail swishing back and forth in agitation.

"Hello?" She calls timidly, suddenly very afraid and very certain that she’ll receive a response.

Something under the water in the pond gurgles in response. Pat shivers not from cold but terror as she remembers the voice of the thing in the closet. Pengy darts outside from between Pat’s legs and before she can reach out and grab his tail he’s gone into the dark. Without another thought Pat follows him through the dew stained grass towards the edge of the pond.

"Pengy!" Pat whispers as a breeze grazes over her bare skin. No response from the cat or the pond. Cautiously Pat approaches the edge of the pond; the tall grass hides the muddy edge of the water and the moonlight glints off its still surface, making it that much harder to see anything. There’s no sound from the night-bugs, no sound from the pond, no sound from Pengy, and that scares Pat the most. She leans out over the water’s edge.

"Pengy?"

There’s a face beneath the surface of the water, distorted by the moonlight, but she can make it out clearly enough, it’s the face of a man. His skin is grey and bloated and his mouth opens in a yaw of bubbles as his decaying fingers reach through the water to grab her. Pat screams and stumbles backwards, her feet slide out from beneath her and she lands with a thud upon the dewy ground. The man in the water is climbing up the muddy bank for her, she can hear his body slipping and sliding for purchase in the mud. He growls in frustration as Pat turns around and runs for the house at a sprint.

She slams the patio door shut and locks it, panting heavily. Pengy appears outside the window and scratches upon the glass with his paw. Panic slams home inside Pat’s chest as she fumbles for the lock. Finally she manages it and yanks the door open.

"Get in here, stupid!" She hisses breathlessly at Pengy as he darts inside. Pat re-locks the door and backs away from it slowly, waiting for the face of the man to appear at the door but he never does. She stands in the combination living/dining room for a long time before she finally assumes nothing is going to happen. Those seconds are the longest of her life as she waits for the impossible.

Pat collapses in the middle of the floor and Pengy pads over to her and rubs along her back before climbing into her lap. She runs a hand over his silky fur, wraps her arms around him, and pulls him into a tight hug, burying her face in his neck.

"You stupid, stupid cat; don’t ever do that to me again!"

Pengy waows in response; I’m sorry, I love you. Pat cradles him in her arms and carries him upstairs to her bedroom. She shuts the door firmly behind her and crawls into bed. With Pengy lying on her chest she glances over at the closet which is now shut. I don’t remember closing it; she says to herself and suppresses a shiver. Just when she thinks she couldn’t possibly go to sleep she does.

After a warm shower the next morning Pat has almost forgotten the horror from the night before; she’s all ready begun convincing herself it was a nightmare. She takes a bowl of Kix cereal upstairs to her room and sits down at her desk. It’s time to put the pictures under the glass. From the top drawer to her right she extracts a manila envelope. Pat lifts the tab and dumps out a slew of crumpled and faded pictures next to her cereal bowl. She tosses the envelope aside and begins flipping the pictures over and sorting through them. Her fingers stop above the picture of a happy young man holding a plump baby in a diaper. With trembling fingers Pat lifts the photo from the desk for a closer look.

In the picture the man has a full of head of brown hair and dancing eyes. He’s smiling at the baby who has her chubby arms wrapped around his neck in a tight embrace. Pat can almost hear the laughter between the two of them stuck in their perfect, picturesque moment; a moment that will never end in which they will both remain eternally happy wrapped in one another’s arms.

A single tear slips from Pat’s eye and escapes down her cheek. She wipes it away absently as Pengy jumps upon the desk next to the photos and crouches there eyeing her cereal bowl. Pat doesn’t notice him; she’s caught up in the memory of the man in the photo.

She doesn’t remember the day the photograph was taken but she remembers the man in the photo, she should, he’s her father. She remembers the same happy young man who always wore blue jeans, flannel shirts, and steel-toed boots. She remembers how he always smelled like diesel when he came home from work; she never knew exactly what he did, something with machines, but she loved that smell. It was the gaseous, suffocating scent of hard work; it was the smell of her father, the last thing she would ever have to remember him by. She remembers how she could wrap her arms around his middle, bury her face in his shirt, and smell the diesel on his clothes until she was dizzy with the strength of it. Most of all she remembers the way she would curl up on his chest like Pengy does to her and listen to the beat of his heart on Sunday afternoons when the race was on. Best of all she remembers how he’d lean in and kiss her forehead goodnight and right before he’d leave he’d whisper "I love you" inside her ear, and she’d giggle and kiss his forehead and whisper back, "I love you too, Daddy."

Now all she has is this photograph, this still frame of a moment long ago, a moment she doesn’t even remember, and the hundreds of others lying scattered upon her desk; pictures of a life that no longer feels like her own, pictures that portray the life of someone else, a stranger; someone happy who got to live those moments and who smiled that much but it certainly wasn’t her. Pat couldn’t have lived that life, not when she felt so alone now.

The tears are streaming down her face now, she can’t hold them back, a dam has broken somewhere inside her and she can’t plaster it up fast enough to stop the leakage. Pengy sits up in alarm, watching her cry over her pictures, tear drops falling upon the happy faces smiling up at her.

She always thought he was happy until he took his own life, leaving no note, no trace, and no explanation for the sudden suicide. He looks happy in her pictures and she prefers to remember him that way, to think that he died happy, that maybe there was a good reason he drove through a guardrail and over a cliff to the jagged rocks and crashing waves below. Pat shivers; her entire body feels cold and dead at the thought of her father driving off a cliff. Pengy rubs his face along her arm and Pat wipes the tears from her eyes with her palms.

"I’m sorry, Peng, I just miss him sometimes."

Pengy waows, me too. Pat slides the pictures, one by one, reverently under the glass cover on her desk. There’s no reason she should hide them anymore. This is a new house, a new life, a new chance, even if the same old monster keeps haunting her.

Dolores staggers into her daughter’s room late that evening, not bothering to knock, she just barges in. Pat looks up from her place sitting on the bed as if she’s been caught in the act of doing something naughty. Her mother’s face is tear-stained and blotchy, with spots of color resting high on her cheekbones. She enters the room apologetically until she sees the pictures staring up from under the glass. Her face twists in rage.

"You kept them?"

Pat climbs off the bed. Pengy stands up too, his tail swishing back and forth in alarm; they’re both tensing for a fight.

"They’re mine." Pat replies quietly, defensively. Pengy crouches upon the bed, staring hard at Dolores Stenson, the fur upon his back standing straight up.

Dolores looks at her in disgust. "They are not. Get rid of them. Get rid of him."

"No." It’s a simple negation, but it ignites a volley of vicious verbal arrows from her mother.

"I said get rid of them! I don’t want to see them in this house anymore! Get rid of them!" She screams and lifts up a corner of the glass, pulling several pictures out and throwing them upon the floor. Pat rushes forward and shoves her mother backward towards the door, away from the pictures.

"They’re mine and I’m going to keep them!" She shouts desperately, trying to make her mother understand that she needs them; she needs to remember her father this way, not the way he looked before they closed the coffin lid.

Dolores hits the door and looks at Pat, stunned, but only for a moment. She steps forward and pulls her arm back and slaps her daughter across the face. Pat’s head is rocked sideways and her cheek stings where her mother hit her. Pengy leaps from the bed hissing and attacks Dolores’ ankles. She screeches and kicks her foot out at him but he dodges it and lies upon the floor, out of her reach, hissing. Dolores picks up the pictures she removed from under the desk and tears them into pieces. Pat watches in abject horror as her mother drops the pieces and stalks from the room.

Pat falls to her knees and shuffles the pieces around until she can make sense of them. One of them is the picture of her father and herself as a plump baby with their arms around one another. The smile on her father’s face has been torn in half. Even with tape the pictures could never be repaired. With one hand Pat swipes the pieces into disarray once more. She doesn’t want to look at that half-smile if she doesn’t have to.

Pengy’s still lying crouched upon the floor, watching the door for Dolores’ possible return. Pat covers her face in her hands and cries, the sobs wracking her tiny frame. After a moment Pengy leaves his defensive position and goes to comfort Pat. His body magnetizes to hers as he rubs his head along her arm. Pat removes her hands from her face and looks at her best friend through a watery haze. She laughs at him once, and then pulls him into a tight embrace. Pat is the only one Pengy will tolerate this from. Even before her father’s death, Pengy would never let another person hug him this way, only Pat. Before he died, Kevin, Pat’s father, insisted that the only reason Pengy let Pat hug him that way was because she’d done it since she was a baby and Pengy was a kitten.

Pat cradles Pengy in her arms and absently strokes his fur as she stares at the floor where the picture pieces lie mocking her, willing her emotions back inside her control. Her face stings from where her mother hit her. That’s never happened before. Pat can handle the silence; she can handle her mother’s need for it, she even understands it. Pat prefers silence. She’s tuned into the sounds of the world more that way. But she can’t handle this, this anger, this betrayal; she’s staring hard at the pictures her mother tore into pieces, no, the memories her mother tore into pieces. And like that her emotions are no longer under her control. She squeezes Pengy too tightly, crushing him to her chest. His claws dig into her flesh, but Pat hardly feels it.

Something scratches at the closet door. Both Pat and Pengy’s heads snap up in response. The fear trilling down Pat’s spine causes her to tighten her grip even more on Pengy, who can’t take it anymore, and wiggles free, using his claws viciously. He leaves light cuts and scrapes along Pat’s arms. The pain of his claws digging into her skin makes her momentarily forget the sound of something scratching at the door. She looks down at her arms to examine the damage and that’s when the sound comes again. It’s a light scratching, barely discernible; could even be Pat’s imagination, and probably is.

Something scratches at the closet door again, this time louder, more insistent; it’s not a part of Pat’s imagination. Pat and Pengy stare at the closet door for a moment before Pengy breaks the ensuing silence by padding towards it. Pat reaches out to snatch him back but she’s too late. Pengy stops just shy of the door and the world wavers for a moment as the absolute silence suffocates. In the next second something solid thuds against the door sending Pengy skittering backwards, hissing, and Pat’s eyes widen in horror. The thing on the other side thuds against the door again, this time harder. Pat hears the wood begin to splinter and sees where it has all ready started to bow outward. Terror immobilizes her where she kneels before the torn photographs. The next thud cracks a hole in the door and the thing in her closet growls. Every hair on Pat’s body stands at attention at the growl because not only was it feral but it was unmistakably human. Two rotting, decaying fingers poke through the hole and grip the edges of the wood. The thing pulls back and takes with it a handful of the door.

Pat watches in terrible wonder as three fingers appear in the widening hole and pull more of the door away. She watches the process unfold until the thing behind the door can fit its fist through the hole. As it remodels her bedroom door it whispers to her from the other side and at first she can’t comprehend its foreign tongue but after a while it starts to make sense. She can’t move, she’s immobilized by fear, and Pengy stands off to the side, crouched, hissing and spitting like a rabid cat.

"Adeo mihi precious. Adeo mihi. Adeo vestri vinco. Adeo vestri Monasteriense."

(Come to me, precious. Come to me. Come to your master. Come to your monster.)

Possessed by the voice of the thing behind the door Pat begins crawling towards the door where it continues to peel away the wood to reveal its face. She’s chilled to the bone with terror, but that voice, those words offer a sedative comfort to her brain that insists she’s safe.

"Bonus parvulus. Bonus pet. Adeo mihi. Adeo vestri abbas."

(Good child. Good pet. Come to me. Come to your father.)

Pat’s mindless crawl towards the door ceases upon the last word as she stares through the hole into the darkness on the other side of the closet. She can’t see anything in there, and has almost convinced herself she never saw anything tear a hole in the door; it was there when she moved in. There is nothing but silence from the thing on the other side. Silence in the bedroom where Pat is down on her hands and knees. Silence as Pengy rubs against Pat’s thigh and she looks back at him just as the thing on the other side of the door barrels through screaming. Pat turns towards its alien voice in time to see the face of her father climbing through the hole.

His skin is green and dirt runs from the corners of his eyes like tears. His face is cracked on the right cheek and above his temple where the glass from the Ford’s windshield cut him on the night he died. She can see the white of his cheekbone and skull beneath where the skin has rotted away. His teeth are yellow mossy graves in his mouth and some have fallen out completely. Her father wriggles his way out through the hole in the door like a worm through dirt. Pat screams like a siren as his hands clutch for the hair hanging around her face, his torso wriggled halfway out of the hole.

Pengy hisses, his back arching as his ears lay flat, and jumps towards the monster worming its way out of the door. His needle-point teeth sink into the decaying meat of her father’s arm and the monster roars. Blood black as mud oozes from the puncture wounds in the corpse’s arm and burns Pengy’s whiskers off. The cat screeches through his hold on the monster’s arm even as it flings him around like a rag doll. The monster pulls Pengy from its arm with his other hand and throws him against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Pat is vaguely aware of the dull thump Pengy’s soft body makes as it hits the wall. She has just lost her life-long best friend in a matter of seconds and there’s no time to consider his passing.

She scrambles backwards and the monster recommences its murderous crawl out the door. The monster that looks so much like Pat’s father makes one final push and climbs through the hole. Pat scrambles backwards on her butt and hands but the monster moves with alarming speed and is on top of her before she can scream.

Pat does scream but only for a second as her father’s hands wrap around her throat, choking with incredible strength for a corpse. She can smell the stench of decay for only a moment but that moment is more than enough. It makes tears spring from her eyes, blurring her perception of the monster’s face before her. It’s wild, animal eyes bore into hers. It looks like her father on the outside, a dead version of him, but on the inside there is nothing left of her father. She gathers all this in the second before its fingers encase her throat and understanding clicks into place like a door slamming shut.

Dolores’ silence after her husband’s death permeated the thick walls of their house until she couldn’t take it anymore. So she moved herself and her daughter into a townhouse across town to get away from the memories and the silence but it didn’t make a difference. The silence and memories traveled with, like the photographs. Only her daughter, the child that resembled her father, continued to exist through the silence, the only constant. Dolores couldn’t handle looking into her daughter’s face and seeing her husband so she shut herself in her room, downed the doctors prescribed pills, and slept. Time thickened with the silence and the monster fed on the distance growing between mother and daughter until it had formed a body of its own hiding in Pat’s closet; a manifestation of the rage burning between them. The monster wasn’t really her father but his absence, the silence where he once existed, the void that now would always be hollow; a silence that would always need to be filled.

Pat stares into the face of her father and the world wavers before her. Black wings flutter at the edges of her vision and she knows those wings belong to death. She also knows the silence that follows in her death, the hollow place where she once existed will fester into something inhuman that merely resembles, merely mocks the reality of her now. She will become that which she has feared scratching at the closet door (or climbing from the pond). She will become the monster in her mother’s closet. Through the denseness of death comes a voice she recognizes as the voice she confused for the voice of the monster.

"Adeo mihi parvulus. Adeo mihi meus pet. Adeo nex."

Come to me child. Come to me my pet. Come to death.

#writing #short story #First Draft?

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alluringjae · 3 years

Text

until dawn; pt. II - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 12.2k

⤑ genre: ANGST, fluff, romance, smut (f receiving, dom!jeno waow, dirty talk, wrap it everyone) | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, enemies to lovers!au, college!au, night at the museum-inspired!au

⤑ warnings: references to actual historical figures, explicit language, graphic details, major heartbreak caused by another party, expect time jumps too

⤑ author’s note: happy jeno day!! i’ve been so excited to post this part, and i’m happy we’re here!! perhaps, this is the last long fic i’ll write for a while so i can rest, but i’ll still be posting short stories within the weeks to come! i’m excited for may to say the least hehe

btw, for the smut scene (indicated with **), i highly recommend you listen to strange (feat. hillary smith) by kris bowers!! this song is from the bridgerton soundtrack, and oh man, the feels!!

with that, enjoy!

italicized text either means they are personal notes or flashbacks.

this was meant to be more angsty, but either way, i screamed every time i wrote something gut-wrenching.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome

⤑ ctto above!!

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

“You ready to get your butt beaten by me, Lee?”

“Prepare your final words when I win instead, (Y/L/N).”

Mischievous banter exchanged between you two became a new norm. Almost every night, someone within the art pieces established a contest over anything and it released the competitive sides of you two. So far, Jeno has been winning. Not like it hurt your pride, but maybe just once, you could conquer one game to feel better. Not only that, there’s a mini penalty for the loser. So far, you’ve cleaned up the lobby yourself and acted cutely to everyone the entire evening (or aegyo as Jeno called it).

Tonight, a game of archery was held by the Greek gods. They pushed away any extra pieces away, leaving the whole room vacant with two boards right beside Zeus’ throne. Numerous arrows were produced and sharpened, Zeus in the center announced to everyone participating.

“It’ll be 1 on 1 games. First to go are Jeno vs (Y/N), followed by Athena vs. Hermes, Cleopatra vs. Freddie, and last would be Hades vs Aphrodite.”

Cutting the chase, you didn’t expect Jeno to be that good at archery. Sure, he told you that he took classes with his friends for fun when he was younger, though it showed that he’s a fast learner and even hit one bullseye in the middle of the game.

Not slightly threatened until the last rounds, you fixed your aim and lessened your overthinking when preparing to shoot. Thus, you scored 2 bullseyes shot. It was a close fight, having the audience on the edge on their feet again because it’s the two of you. Your dynamic with the night guard always elevated the mood, shifting their bets over and over again.

By 1 point, you received your first victory against Jeno. Unlike you, he showcased his sportsmanship sweetly without any comments of disbelief. He’s never bragged about anything big in his life, not unless it’s a high grade for his plate. Normally, he celebrated wins in a laid-back manner. But don’t be fooled: he loves giving penalties.

“This is why I don’t make bets with my friends because I really go for their weak spots.”

“You’re cynical, Lee Jeno.”

“Only if you’re close to me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Aren’t we already past that stage?”

Almost halfway through his job, he sustained a meaningful friendship with you. Out of everyone, you were his default person to hang out within the nights he had a shift. If he wasn’t present, he made sure to give you small treats or gifts as much as possible. An innocent friendship, it was that the world would’ve never believed in.

Or was it?

“To celebrate your win, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re too kind for me to play around with, even if you’re the complete opposite of me.”

“I’ll make it simple and worthwhile since I don’t know when I’ll win a game again.” As your finger tapped your temple as you pondered deeply, a smart idea came through. “Grant me 3 wishes.”

He chuckled, lowering himself to view you better. “Am I like some genie now to you?”

“No room to complain, I won, didn’t I?” You grinned, raising one brow to show your dominance.

“You’re petty in your own way, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. Now come on, I want to use my first wish.” You shrugged it off like no big deal, loving the high feeling of triumph. You lead him to the center of the lobby, where a beautiful grand piano only selected people get to play during exhibits. “Open the museum piano.”

Ever since you were brought to life, you never used it. Tempting but because people from the outside might here, maybe it’s time to try something new. A new challenge, and besides, you missed entertaining people through it. The last time you touched the delicate piano keys was to your family before you ran away.

It’s a good thing that in the shackle of keys Jeno held, the needed key was there. Unlocking the lustrous black instrument, you sat by the matching black bench. Crackling your fingers, you tested by pressing a few keys to get the hang of it again.

“What are you planning to play, (Y/N)?” Jeno leaned against the side, his arms crossed.

Humming the first notes of your piece, the nostalgia ran through your veins. “Nocturne No. 2 in E flat by Chopin.”

Your fingers took off and played each chord slowly and calmly. This piece reminded you the most of your mother, who sat by the couch in front of your old piano with your father while guests from the party they hosted crowded around you. Being the youngest, they often requested you to perform as entertainment so you always put your best foot forward. Or so you tried.

Nevertheless, no one else in your family was capable to play this piece as perfectly as you. By the way your eyes closed and your body swayed to the mellow tune, Jeno observed how you memorized this piece by heart. A passionate flame you were, outshining every pianist out there.

He wasn’t surprised at how multi-talented you were, though there’s a different kind of aura you present when you played the instrument. From your hard and tough front, you could be soft and sweet to the right people.

In a way, you showed your comfort toward the boy by serenading him with the piano. Sketching him with him in the past was one thing, but this was another. You’d sketch with people you’ve grown used to, but you play piano to people you want to cherish in your life. As dangerous as it seems, Jeno was someone special to you, only wanting to have good moments with him.

Junmyeon will always have a huge part in your museum life, but Jeno filled the emptiness that he left behind. This loneliness for a human friend vanquished thanks to Jeno, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it at all. Sure, whenever he acted like a gentleman around you, let you inside the Foreign Art Room, or brought you food sometimes, you couldn’t help feel honored.

Though lately, every time he showed off his strength when he defeated Zeus and Hades during an arm wrestle game the god held again. You seriously had to catch a breath at every flex his arms made, like the goddesses. Maybe how he pushed his black hair back when he’s drawing another plate, you’d give yourself a few extra seconds to see his long fingers skim through them. He’d bit his lower lip when he’s in too deep with his creativity, wondering if he’d bite the lower lip of the girl he’d ki-

All right, (Y/N), relax. Maybe you’re thinking this way because it’s been decades since your last relationship. You wouldn’t want to fall for another possible trap and hurt yourself again, right?

Ever since this job, Jeno’s university life drastically changed. Yes, he still hung out with his friends and performed extremely well in his classes, though he prioritized anything related to the museum wherever he was. If they were drinking out, he’d buy an extra bottle of soju for you on his way back to the dorm. Rarely does he get shitfaced anyways.

If he and Renjun visited the bookstore to purchase pens or any art-related materials, he always bought either an extra sketchpad or set of pens. Even if you were simply a figure to everyone else, he appreciated the bond you both developed.

Every night, he’d tell you about his day from the start. Normally, it consisted of a lot of schoolwork and coffee, some stories about his roommates too. Speaking of them, he’d insert a lot of humorous words about his entire group of friends, whom you learned their names too.

Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle, and Donghyuck, each of them presented a different color in their group. Jeno, who’d admitted to being shy and quiet, grew out of his shell because of them. A friend of Jeno’s would automatically be a friend of yours, if only you were allowed to leave the museum or become a human.

Jeno learned more about your past explorations that never got documented because you no longer had an interest in jotting them down. They were adventures you’d kept to yourself, memories only close to you then would know. Except now, Jeno was another addition. You’re not the type to instantly open to people, though again, a sense of relief surrounded him every time you encounter each other. It grew gradually like a warm hug, softening your heart and breaking your walls.

The more he spent time with you, nothing feared Jeno the slightest. He’s always maintained himself intact, avoiding lines to be crossed and giving respect to those who deserve it. However, he began to question himself where exactly his feelings lie with you after Jaemin tried to set him up on a blind double date just so the best friend of his date wouldn’t feel left out.

He’s rarely one to get crushes on people, even when other girls in his college openly showed their affection towards him. Valentine’s Day or his birthday, several girls sent him chocolate or flowers. Jaemin and Renjun got sick of girls reaching out to them first so they could reach him. It’s not because he’s not the dating type, but because he’s so goal-oriented that unlike his roommates, he doesn’t have a slight clue about dating.

Though one-night stands while at a party and dating were completely different, he’d still say he had experience with girls. Plus having an older sister, he never took advantage of them. He’d rather tell them in person that the feelings weren’t mutual than ghosting them. He’s not like Jaemin anyways.

With that, he’s so lost when his heart beats twice as fast the second you’ve woken up from your posing slumber. He doesn’t comprehend how flustered he’d be when you highly insist to help him with his plate or how cute he finds it when you’re playing fetch with Mochi. On top of it, when you chose to sketch each other for one of your sketching sessions, he’d take a longer stare at your visage before he drew some strokes.

A lot of historical accounts mentioned how your beauty was the standard of the Victorian era, wherein you were the jewel of your neighborhood and numerous men wanted your hand. Women envied you, especially having high intelligence skills that were equivalent to a man. That time, that felt like a threat to most men. Though surprisingly, it turns out there were men who liked intelligent girls.

Jeno knew he liked you as a friend, though liking you past that he didn’t intend. Nor was it allowed because it’ll break one of the golden rules. Before he’d go beyond contemplating, he had to stop himself. This was so unlike him. The feelings will fleet away, he’d repeat to himself. Don’t waste a great friendship because of your silly emotions.

Individually, both of you swallowed these harboring feelings down your guts and simply kept your friendship status safe. Doing your typical activities or whatever else you could think of, none of you minded to change it whatsoever.

Unknown to you though, it was obvious to the other art pieces ones that you two practically passed off as young lovers. Although they know that pushing one towards the other went against the rules, Aphrodite begged to differ.

“Holding them back from expressing what they really feel just because of the law here is a tragedy. They should at least try, you know?”

On another typical night, Jeno invited you to the Theater Room for a movie marathon. After finding out that you’ve never seen any moving pictures, he wanted to be there to introduce it. Luck was on his side to not have plates or requirements due for the week and everyone was behaving themselves, so he started with rolling out short films from the 88mm projector. Having premade popcorn and drinks, the two of you shared roars of laughter and emotional tears.

Switching to the cd player for longer and clearer films, you’d opt to believe that you were born at the wrong time. With all these advancements, it came with a lot of new beliefs. One of them was allowing women to study and work. Then again, she was a pioneer according to historians. Without her, it wouldn’t help shape society as it is today.

Nonetheless, this movie Jeno played on the big screen was what he defined as “one of the classics”, 10 Things I Hate About You.

This outspoken character named Kat was presenting a poem to her class, trying to hold in her raw emotions towards Patrick, the boy who broke her heart. Too engaged, you didn’t notice how Jeno stretched his arms out so he could wrap one around your shoulder. Not that you were complaining, his warmth reassuring you safety.

“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” The way she attempted to keep her strong ground only reminded you of where you were weeks ago, especially once she excruciatingly broke down.

“I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Only when you leaned back to the chair, you felt his arm. His thumb caressing your covered shoulder, you peeked him a little bit. His eyes fixated on the screen, absorbed in the acting and how Kat’s tears weren’t scripted as she stormed out of the classroom.

Not that you were her, but it sparked the past memory of how you merely disliked him because of his job. But as a person, not even close, not even once did you hate him. How blessed that he never judged you for it, staying patient all this time.

Right before he could look back at you, you moved your face back to resume your watching. Jeno definitely noticed what you did, though not sure as to why. Whatever it was, it wasn’t harmful.

Once the film ended, Jeno checked his watch for the time. 4 am, he wanted to do something else now instead of film viewing. You were on par with it, wanting to walk it out after being seated for hours. As you both cleaned up and bid the posters outside goodbye, the doors to the museum were locked unexpectedly. Impossible on Jeno’s half because he had the keys for every room, but he double-checked his bunch.

Alas, the keys for these doors specifically were missing. But there was no other way anyone could’ve gotten it, plus it’s not like the last person he talked to, which was Aphrodite, would need it.

Or did she?

Rather than putting any blame on each other, your only wish now was to return to your section before sunrise. You and he could just relax momentarily before yelling for help.

“Maybe we should watch another film first?”

“Alright, you choose while I return the rest.”

As Jeno inserted the cd of Cinema Paradiso inside, the background music of the opening played. He hummed the first notes, already feeling the love from this film. Another must-see classic as recommended by Renjun, he wanted to rewatch it with you.

Slowly returning each cd and film roll to their respective drawers, the melodious theme had you waltzing in the small space. Even beyond your life, classical music never gets old. Aging like fine wine, sounding spectacular as time passes because of people’s creativity.

Jeno gazed over your sudden movements, smiling uncontrollably at how immersed you were as you multi-tasked. However, you took a wrong turn by the desk and almost dropped a priceless film roll. But before you fully slipped and fell, a pair of strong arms caught you at the right time. Panting from the nerves, mostly when he was inches from your face. Never has he pressed his body this close to you to protect you, and never have you seen his captivating eyes this up close.

As enchanting as the background music of Ennio Morricone was, it only became noise once Jeno took ahold of the film roll on your hand and placing down on the desk. Taking another step closer, you were backed up by the edge. Not to mention how his height dignified his impact on you, your arms were still situated by your side with nowhere else to go.

That was until his finger elevated your chin so he could meet you on eye-to-eye level. His other hand gripping your waist, you became brave enough to place your hands by his broad shoulders. Licking your lips, you glanced at his lips quickly. But he noticed it, and as risky as this was, it was a leap of faith to take.

“May I kiss you?”

Always such a gentleman, even when he already knew how much you desired him through your returning affections. Calming your breath patterns by the speed of everything occurring, you came back to your senses. He’s the one who constantly told you not to forget your roots, so you were going to take this one.

You trust him, and he does too.

“Yes.”

Since the first film, some kind of tension increased the closer he moved or intimate his actions were towards you. You kept pushing it back in hopes not to ruin what you both have. But it only turned out to be mutual, especially how none of you held back as soon as his lips passionately clashed yours.

Tangling your arms around his neck, you stood on your tiptoes to press even closer to him. Feeling his lively heart pumping against your hollow chest, you bit his lower lip. Something you’ve secretly craved to do, he growled from the pleasure. He hoisted your waist to the desk, his impatient hands earnestly traveling all over your body. While your legs locked around his torso, your feisty nature leaned back so your entire body lied on the small desk.

Jeno was on top, placing one hand down to hold himself while the other squeezed your waist firmly. Even if you’re made of wax, you’re like an actual living woman at night. Everything about you becomes real until dawn. You emitted vulgar moans, giving him more access to your neck. Peppering a mix of soft to hard kisses, your hand teasingly snaked under his shirt. He really wasn’t joking when he bragged that he was quite ripped since he enjoyed sports and going to the gym, cupping a part of his toned abdomen.

“If you want something, all you have to do is ask.” He sluggishly sucked the area between your ear and neck, one of your weakest spots. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

The growing moistness in between your legs left a stain in your panties, trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. It’s been decades since you’ve been stimulated like this. However, Jeno beat you to it as he trailed the hand that was on your waist and lowering it right above your covered sex. He cupped it agonizingly slow, making you folding your leg from the pleasure. For a man who doesn’t date around, he knew exactly what he’s doing.

“I just kissed you, and you’re already this soaked. Can you handle me, baby?”

As the strong woman that you present yourself to be, it would selfishly take the right touch from the right man to weaken you. With his savage lips back on yours while your hands clutched on his shirt, he was simply waiting for a verbal answer, yet driving you completely mad. Everything was happening so fast, and here he was to please you in anywhere you seem fit.

You were deprived, and oh, you needed it more than ever.

However, seconds before you replied, there was loud rumbling from the main doors which stopped your devilish antics. As Jeno moved back from you to see the ruckus, you lifted yourself back up, pulling back your dress sleeves and flattening out the creases. The last thing you wanted was a trail of familiar red marks from the aggressive male, finding any reflective surfaces to check.

“I wouldn’t be that dumb to leave you hickies now, would I?” Jeno ended your worries as he placed his hands by your side again. His face leaned towards yours again, reliving the warmth in your cheeks. His lips were plumper, catching traces of your coral lipstick smudged there down to his jaw. He slotted himself again between your legs, grazing a hand on your waist and the other to your warm cheek. “The door’s unlocked now, and it’s 5 am. Do you want to clean up now?”

You playfully scoffed, aware that neither of you had plans to do that yet. Such a player while in the heat of the moment.

“Spare me 15 more minutes with you first.”

Hiding the romance you’ve both built failed without trying. Aphrodite spotted all the signs from your open physical affection and words of admiration, calling you two out in front of everyone without shame. She is the goddess of love, after all. You couldn’t fool her even if you tried.

Plus, she’s the one who locked the two of you up in the Theater Room that night. But neither of you know that.

“Sketch my ideal home?” Jeno bent down to the table, testing out his newly bought pens so they wouldn’t spill.

“Isn’t that why you decided to pursue Architecture in the first place? Come on now!” You pestered across him, opening your new sketchpad since your last one ran out of pages. As expected, Jeno bought you one when he went to the bookstore. As much as you insisted not to because he should use the money somewhere else, he did it anyway. He loved your works, encouraging you in any way he could.

When he was reminded of his humble beginnings of his passion for architecture by you, never had he envisioned exactly how his perfect home would be like. Settling down was so far beyond his mind, only focusing to graduate university then study for the licensure exams. However, he did miss drawing something for fun, not as a requirement. He also was the one who took charge of designing his dorm.

“Fine, only if you draw what your ideal home would’ve been if you never left London.”

Now as lovers, the only addition to your relationship were the public and private exchanges of affection. Deep conversations, film viewing, back and forth banter, you’re both still the same competitive duo everyone expected to be together. In public, the two of you held hands, hugged, kissed each other cheeks too when it felt right. Cleopatra’s face of fake nausea was priceless every time, while Princess Diana, Anne, and Katherine enjoyed it. It’s been years since they’ve seen this glow of adoration in you. Bit by bit, you’re going back to the old you. Except now, you’re a lot stronger.

Perhaps, this version of you proved wrong for the need for romance. Even if you made the choice not to settle down then, it would’ve been different if Jeno was in your universe then.

“Are you done there?” Jeno asked while you were finishing up your masterpiece. Life in London sounded fun when you were younger, having all these ideas on interior design and the like. An innocent time.

Instead of replying, you strode to his side and compared your pieces together. He pictured a two-story home, with a backyard and rooftop area. He definitely wanted to stay in the city as his whole life was based there. Although you preferred living in the countryside more for more freedom, you gave it a shot by pinpointing every detail of a wealthy typical Victorian-era home you liked. You desired a spacious lobby with a grand staircase in the middle, a crystal chandelier there too. The living room would have a small library and a grand piano, where wide doors leading to the grasslands were beside it.

Considering you two lived from different times, in a way your ideal homes were similar. Somewhere private, surrounded by nature and minimal furniture, you’re curious as to how it would look if the two of you fused them together. A mix of old and new, will it look pretty?

“What will look pretty?” Jeno questioned your random thought, looking back and forth at your sketches. “You know who’s pretty though?”

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, I’m lea-”

“You.”

Jeno has gotten flirtier since that night, always finding the right opportunity to flatter you. Although you denied them out of embarrassment, the butterflies in your stomach can’t lie to you.

You’re so smitten, and so was he.

Jeno’s always one to follow the rules, but so far, he’s been breaking some of them already.

Just last night, he gave Renjun access to the lively museum because he needed more research regarding you. Initially, he practically interviewed Jeno for every piece of information he gathered because he used to be so deep in the books to study everything about you. Now in the past, Renjun still couldn’t forget how Jeno drunkenly admitted how crazy he was going to be over you and your coldness whilst sobering up in the dorm.

He didn’t understand one bit by that, especially when you’re technically dead. But by the sight of the first piece Renjun saw alive, which was Zeus, he almost passed out. Piece by piece, he viewed these artworks come to life from his fresh eyes. Right before he could’ve screamed when Athena shot a lightbulb in their exhibit, you happily called out Jeno’s name.

Renjun froze on the spot upon seeing your wax figure come to life. He’s browsed through this museum numerously due to the new exhibits, but lately, he checked your section out to find any tiny details that were linked to your life. Aside from the sketchpad, compass, and hairpins, he wanted to know if there was more to your life as an explorer.

As human interactions except the night guard weren’t allowed, Renjun needed help for his project in Women Studies. Just like Jeno’s assignment, you aided him. Fruitfully answering every question he gave you, Athena popped out of nowhere to inspect Jeno.

“I see you’re breaking another rule.”

“I’m sorry, Athena. He was desperate, and it would be selfish of me to let him fail.”

“This is the last one I’ll let slide, alright?” Athena huffed, not impressed by the reckless behavior Jeno acquired over time. She saw this coming, but for a change, she couldn’t punish him. He was a young adult, still learning more about life. Only will she step in if things turn for the worst. “I can’t believe I’ve gained a soft spot for you.”

Jeno laughed, hugging the figure like his older sister. “You love me though!”

Glad to say, Renjun aced his project and kept his word of not telling anyone about the happenings in Jeno’s job. Jeno even made a makeshift non-disclosure contract so Renjun wouldn’t spill the slightest details.

Lately, so much has been happening in the museum that having alone time with each other was rare. And when you did, the two of you made sure to maximize it and make every intimate moment count. From each touch, each longing kiss, each moan, and groan, never were you left hanging whether you’re at the Theater Room, Jeno’s office, or the Foreign Art Room.

The only time the two of you went beyond the boundaries was at the indoor garden. Jeno managed to get the key to it, lighting up some candles before you invited you inside. Thanks to the magic of the Greek gods, the cameras were bewitched to display fake imageries when security checks in the morning after.

Upon your deep conversations, you’ve mentioned once or twice about the indoor garden. It was the latest addition of the museum, opening in the early 2000s. Because it was a sacred place, no art piece was ever allowed inside.

Yet again, Jeno challenged the rules again when he invited you inside. A few minutes before, he set up some lights along the hallway of the garden, where he placed a blanket, a picnic basket, and his laptop right at the end of it. The best place to view everything, he just knew you’d love it.

He was undoubtedly right once you gasped at such a pretty sight. Seeing the silhouettes of various flowers and plants together with the night sky with all the stars sparkling, it was like you’re attending another ball with your sisters, who were looking for suitors then.

Once Jeno leisurely led you until the end, he brought out all the delicacies from the basket. One of them was this Italian savory dish of dough with toppings such as cheese and pepperoni, or pizza as they named it. The next ones were fresh strawberries and melted chocolate, followed by grape juice.

“I’d drink actual alcohol with you again, only if I didn’t get shitfaced and do my job properly.”

“Point taken. Besides, this is close enough. So pour me a drink please.”

Perhaps this was the closest to a date Jeno could ever ask you out to. With the restrictions and being constrained with time, he brainstormed all sorts of ways to bring the outside world to you. From simply letting you wander around this fascinating room, he unleashed the inner romantic in him. None of his friends would’ve thought since they never asked him about it, so he kept it to himself only. Finally, he’s satisfied with what he prepared. After eating, the two of you would watch more films before the sun rose again.

You’re just the right person for him at the moment he can act that way.

After your quiet stroll and sitting back down, Jeno surprisingly handed you a tiny box.

“A gift?”

“Open it.” He sipped on his juice, paying attention to your actions. Gently untying the box, the amazement in your eyes couldn’t fathom such a lovely present. No words were required to verify that Jeno outdid himself again, just your facial expression alone is enough.

When Jeno said that he pays attention to the tiny details, he doesn’t bluff. Throughout your growing relationship, you’ve cited how you wanted another special flower in your life. Just because you couldn’t view lavender roses the same way ever again, it didn’t mean you wanted to kick them out of your life. Flowers were one of nature’s beautiful creations, so you’re wishing to find the love you once had for lavender roses in other ones.

Thus, you came across what you thought held the highest form of meaning: red roses. Despite its thorns, it’s still a marvelous flower. Innocently, you told him that just because of the memory of your father giving them to your mother on her birthday yearly.

Red roses represented true love and romance, a discreet message only those eager would know.

Jeno was one of them, which was why he reserved this gift for this very moment. It was a necklace he found through a college fair recently, a subtle red rose pendant in the center. Since he couldn’t give you huge gifts, he settled for something light. Something none of the guards or the director wouldn’t pinpoint out when they do their inspections.

“Do you like it?”

Not one utter from your mouth since you’re so hypnotized, your lips quirked up in a charming smile. “Is that even a question? This is astonishing, Jeno.”

After you attempted to put it around your neck, Jeno sighed and stepped in to help you out. “Turn around, (Y/N). Let me.”

The tension gradually heightened once you held your hair up so Jeno accessibly viewed your clean neck. Clasping the lock, it took all his might to hold himself back from you. Even from behind, your silhouette was attractive to him. The lights he set up weren’t helping the slightest of what he’s thinking to do with you.

“Done.” He breathily whispered in your ear.

If he thought he was the only one feeling something powerful, he’d be more than wrong. The lingering sensation of his slim fingers gracing your décolletage area unhinged another kind of want, the one you’ve only imagined in your mind when you were needy and alone. It shouldn’t be a sin unless you’re with the person you’ve fallen for, right?

Facing him again, the eye contact didn’t last long when you were the first one to strike a move. Jeno kissed back right away, his hands pulling you closer by your waist. Whatever sultry music Jeno played, it gave you the perfect momentum to grind on his lap. He groaned against kisses, adding his tongue. His thumbs sensually rubbed your hipbones, one of your hands toying around with his hair while the other one balled up his shirt by the chest. None of you cared if anyone caught you.

The last time you’ve been this aggressive was at the Theater Room, which eventually increased the hidden lust you’ve had towards each other. Taking things slowly at first, it’s about time to delve in for more. The mood was already set from the start, even if Jeno didn’t plan this to happen here. But being the prepared man he is, he did have a condom in his back pocket.

Your fingers trailed from his neck until his crotch. He was hard, sensing how suffocated he must be. But he kept himself in control. Locking eye contact, you sweetly spoke.

“Grant my second wish, Jeno.” That same hand of yours held one of his, planting it in your breast. “Make love to me.”

Giving the go-signal, he crashed his lips on yours while stripping you off your dress. Carefully, he turned you around to untie your tight corset. Once it fell, your neck leaned sideways as his lips attacked it madly. Your breaths were tremulous, placing both his hands on your freed breasts to knead with. His touch felt like fire on your skin, yet you couldn’t stop.

“Jeno,” Obscene moans from your lips choked out. You desired more, shifting back to face him again to attack his lips. Slowly feeling one of his hands laying you down, you spread your legs with ease just for him. He parted after your head landed on the cushion to unbutton himself. The way your mouth dropped to selfishly stare at his bare body, flexing them before getting back into position. He was fit and toned just as Cleopatra predicted.

As much as Jeno knew how wild your thoughts were getting, he was more taken aback by your perky chest.

“Fuck, you are divine.” He sucked one nipple as his fingers ventured to slip your panties down. So much was going on, you didn’t know which stimulated you more. You tried to close your legs around his hand, but he slapped your inner thigh to stop you.

The cool breeze shivered you, especially from your core. Jeno’s fingers adventurously grazed from your hip area to your lower lips. He teasingly rubbed it up and down in your essence, his index finger settling it right at your needy clit. Another moan escaped your lips, an opportunity for Jeno to slide his tongue in your mouth. Enjoying the moment, his fingers dipped inside you. A gasp broke your kiss, making him giggle in your ear.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, angel. The things I want to do with you.”

Sliding them back and forth, curling it even, you squirmed for more. Dropping himself to meet your core, Jeno placed your legs on his shoulder. Pushing you closer, his steamy breath felt like friction. Your hips grinded against it, so he gripped on them so you stay put.

“Angel,” He chuckled darkly, his crotch tightening at how powerless you looked. “You’re so pretty.”

You were drenched from arousal. But to Jeno, you were glowing under the lights. He wanted to take his time to admire what he had done to you. His independent girl, only weak for him.

His fingers unfolded in your lower lips, diving in to your orbit. You could hardly speak from his skilled mouth, especially his tongue savagely lapping your clit in numerous paces. You’ve only daydreamed about what it could do aside from kissing, and it exceeded your expectations. By the heated sensation that had the heels of your feet digging his back deeply, you affirmed to have seen more stars than the night sky above you.

Your back arched uncontrollably while his hands grasped your hips to stay in place, the tears in your eyes formulating while tugging on his hair. Your thighs clenched around his face, but his broad shoulders widened it to taste more of you. No use of pulling away when his grip on you was tight, so you could only cry out from the pleasure.

“Fuck!”

The ringing sounds in your off were going off, your throat drying up from moaning once another orgasm was about to hit. Once the knot in you snapped, nothing could hold back your screams of pleasure whilst panting for air. Sensitive as he licked every remaining essence he caused, he smirked as he got up to unbuckle his jeans.

Oh, boy. He got quite a package behind his boxers.

Even while you were overly sensitive, you had to grasp it in your hands. He was yours, and you were his.

The way you clenched around his protected length, pausing to readjust yourself to the feeling. The foreplay deemed helpful, though the girth of him overwhelmed you. He stretched you out so good.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” The stunned face you made was expected, still feeling worried that it may be too much.

Biting your lip, you moaned once everything felt bearable. “You can move, Jeno.”

None of you could track exactly how many rounds you went through. Even in the semi-public area, it didn’t hinder either of you. There’s that thrill, and surprisingly enough, you both shared the liking of it. Always switching the positions, you decided to call it quits after another sloppy round in missionary. Something seeing Jeno on top, fully submitting yourself to him, made you feel calm to be vulnerable. It’s really the trust you’ve established from the start, making you rely on humans again once you’ve let the past be.

Jeno brought out another blanket, initially meant for cuddling. It was still applicable though, curling your body into a spoon towards his racing chest. Music was no longer noise, the intimacy creeping back instead of lust this time. The afterglow of Jeno, sweaty and knackered as his legs sprawled under the sheet, was a sight for sore eyes. He’s always been handsome while on duty, but post-sex gave him an extra boost.

Plus there’s pride from the red marks courtesy of you on his chest, grazing over it softly.

Jeno chuckled softly at your smooth fingers, lifting them up to kiss them tenderly before kissing your lips again. Only humans were capable of and to love, but you’re some kind of an exception. Regardless of the magic from the plate, you’d be able to love too if it weren’t for your background.

There’s so much love Jeno wanted to offer you, even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.

Perhaps one reason was because time was beginning to tick. Finals were a few weeks away, then the one-month long semestral break until a new semester kicks off. Time really flew by, and his bank account and heart expanded too. Enjoying the now was all he could think of doing, but those uncertainties bothered him.

The biggest would be where you and he would stand when his job ended.

Jeno was too absorbed in his internal debate, as portrayed by his eyes staring off in space and running his hand in his hair repeatedly. Something was disturbing him, and you’re concerned as to what it was.

“Jeno,” Around his arm, you tapped his chest to get him out of it. “What’s going on in your head?”

Jeno approached every obstacle he faces straightforwardly, not wanting to let him hold back. Rarely did he keep secrets, especially from you. Instead of hiding away, he voiced it out.

“(Y/N), will we work out?”

“What do you mean, Jeno?”

You’re so occupied in the present that thinking of the future was never in your field. Like him, you’re just enjoying being in the moment. Though after tonight, it’s making you wonder if there’s a future.

“Well,” He placed his hand on top of yours, affectionately observing you. “Times flies faster when you’re having fun, and well, the semester is ending.”

His last words crushed a part of your heart, remembering his initial plan. None of you expected your friendship to bloom into what it is now, but life was just full of surprises without a schedule. At the same time, none of you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It may have been a few months since you two committed to each other, but the spark was still strong. It wasn’t like a summer romance kind of feeling. Time was not a determinant of love either, which you were certain of it with Jeno. A lot more than Junmyeon.

It should’ve frightened you when you realized your love for Jeno, but it didn’t. Even if you didn’t age physically, your mindset did. You’ve learned to forgive your younger self, and through Jeno, you let your guard down completely. From that, you let love in. Platonic to your fellow art pieces, and all of the above to Jeno.

Throughout your relationship, you regained all confidence in yourself and everything you set your mind to.

“I wouldn’t want to worry too much about it if I were you.” Your body flipped to lie on your stomach, resting your head on your palm.

“Why shouldn’t I, angel?”

Gazing back at him, you left a velvety kiss on his lips to rest his thoughts. His hand wrapped your neck, deepening it. But you pulled away with a giggle, all too knowing of his secret intentions as his cock began to harden again. His eyes narrowed down and his lower lip stuck out at your attempt of being a tease.

But enough about sex, you wanted to address a point.

Lee Jeno was going to be the biggest risk you wanted to take and fight for, and no one should try to stop you.

“I’ll ask Circe for a potion. For me, for you, for us.”

If it weren’t for insistent questioning towards every art piece, who kept their mouths shut, only Circe herself banished him from his suffering. Her series of potions varied, and the one you requested years ago which you threw out was capable of turning any art piece into a living human. No potion of Circe ever failed, so you entrusted your life for the day you do drink it.

“Are you sure, angel?”

Jeno knew about that one specifically, and as great to hear that you never threw it out, he never put pressure on you. He wanted you to do whatever felt right, even if deep down, he wished you’d use it. He was only worried about how the flow of the entire museum would be disrupted.

Typical Jeno always looking out for you, but you saw right through his concern. Here you were, caressing his check as reassurance. With an honest smile,

“I’ve never been more certain with anything in my life here until you came, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno opened up more to his life outside the museum, telling all sorts of experiences not just his days as a university student. From his childhood, his family, his travels, heck you even want to meet his friends at this point!

Newly, he shared with you how the sunrise and sunset looked like in Seoul with much vivacity. It’s a luxury as a human to witness as day breaks and ends, so you could imagine by yourself how it would look like. Sure, you had drawings and all, but that was from the real (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

This version of you wanted to live more; that’s your greed now.

“You’ve never touched snow too, right?” Jeno, who had his arm wrapped around you, silently watched the first batch of snow from inside.

“Yup, that’s the thing when you’re imprisoned in this place.” You sulked by his side, earning a chuckle from him who pulled you in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you despise this place.”

“I don’t, but it hinders me to experience new things. The whole pattern of being awake at night by a plate gets tiring, Jeno.”

All Jeno would do when you’re frustrated was placing your head on his shoulder, listening as you talk.

“I know, angel. But it won’t be long until you leave this place with me, right?”

“You know it!” You interlocked your hands with him, eyes trained at every falling snowflake.

Sometimes, moments in silence with Jeno were all you needed for the night. Being within each other’s presence, focusing or admiring something from afar, it was all the peace you’ve needed from the bustling art pieces.

This week was the last of the semester, and Jeno’s off duty for tonight to focus on his exams. You’ll see him tomorrow night, which was his last shift ever, and also yours too.

Perhaps the biggest milestone you’re committing to without any regrets.

However, it took an unnecessary conversation you accidentally eavesdropped on to rock your decision.

You needed more ink after running out mid-way of sketching the sculptures as a secret parting gift. Before you could take a single step inside your exhibit room, a series of voices were full-on arguing. Booming back and forth, you peeped your ear out whilst hiding against the door.

“Athena, how dare you did to her?! She’s done so well from moving on from it, falling in love even! And now you’re telling me this?!” The distinct voice of Princess Diana, who spoke sweetly most of the time, boomed towards the Greek god. “You’re heartless.”

“I did what I had to do for the sake of this place, Diana!” Athena raised her voice, the lightning in her hands holding back from lashing out. She hated it when anyone argued with her, especially when she does things according to what she believed was necessary. Out of everyone, she had more leadership. “She had to know that her place is here as a wax figure, not outside. Talking Junmyeon out of it was for the best, plus it’s ideal when he drank the potion of memory loss from Circe.”

“But it tore her apart when he left her, and it’s going to tear her again if you do the same with Jeno.”

“How else are you going to approach the situation then, Diana? Those two have broken the highest golden rule, so they need to wake up.”

Right when she celebrated within herself for healing, hearing the unbearable revelation behind the past devastated you. This whole time, she internally blamed herself for being ageless and lashed out at others. The scary past barged back in, and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Somewhere in the corner, you wept without a trace. You could care less about Athena’s opinions, but you found yourself agreeing to some of her words. You had a role to fulfill, and leaving that behind would be selfish and it could make the museum go topsy-turvy. As painful for Junmyeon to leave you, it was because the truth hurts. Nothing could change it, even if Circe could be your solution because it’ll leave a lot of questions. You didn’t want Jeno to be seen as a suspect.

Oh, Jeno.

There’s nothing wrong with falling in love either, you didn’t intend it to happen. But it becomes unfair when it compromises with your purpose, and that’s not how you are. You’ll always remember Jeno as your biggest risk, though it’s time to end things. Treacherous as it was to accept for you, risk-takers have boundaries too.

Fast forward, on the night of Jeno’s last shift, you’ve cherished every second with him. Playing around, chatting with other art pieces, kissing in private, you made it count. Before dawn broke, that’s where you chose to come clean by the garden, your sacred place. Not even your self-reassurance could prepare you to witness the hurt and confusion Jeno felt.

“You’re a mortal, and you still get to choose your path. Mine is already predetermined here as a wax copy of a historical figure.” You advised as you held both his hands, your voice shaking at the reality.

A few days ago, you were beaming with exhilaration at a new journey but now you’ve permanently backed out. Jeno couldn’t comprehend, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t. A life without you by his side would be empty and dull. “Even so, there are things about you that the original person didn’t have.”

Arguing with him wasn’t your favorite, and it’ll leave the two of you in a bad mood. But there is no way to negotiate this; you’ve already made up your mind. “We must end this, Jeno. You need someone who can grow old with you, and I can’t be that person for you.”

“But we can make it work!” His hands gripped on your slumped shoulders, whilst your face avoiding his to spare yourself from the heartache. “There’s still Circe.”

“I know, but recently, I found out that she’s an indirect cause of my misery.” Pulling away from his touch, you belted with frustration. “I cannot do this anymore, Jeno.”

You’ve always fought for whatever you wanted in life, and Jeno knew he was one of them if it weren’t for you telling him that. So he did the same, thinking of ways to make you feel whole. Now, he couldn’t tolerate the sudden crumbling of his heart from your outburst, and all he wanted to know was why you felt this way. How could he help you?

You don’t keep secrets from Jeno, but the truth behind your harsh actions cannot be revealed for the sake of the museum. Plus, you didn’t want him to despise this place he admired. Causing him pain wasn’t on your list, but keeping him safe was. It may be shown differently and he may not understand it now, but over time, he will.

“Jeno, you’ll find someone better out there. Someone with their whole life ahead of them, who’ll love you for everything that makes you who you are.” Repetitive punches in your guts urged you to barf at your half-lie, but you held it in.

“Why are you pushing me away? What happened to taking risks, (Y/N)?” Jeno interrogated, taking your hands in his hands again. They unconventionally quivered, like his lips. Jeno has never cried in front of anyone, not even when he was younger. Though for you, he just might. “Am I not worth it for you?”

Dear heavens, he was wrong. You internally screamed that, but you can’t let your selfishness seize the night. As Athena said, you had to wake up from your dream. “Committing to you was my biggest risk of them all, Jeno. Everything else that went along with it, I don’t regret it one bit. But time’s really up for us, and we must resume our normal duties.”

“I can’t lose you, (Y/N).”

“You never will, Jeno.”

He crouched lower to meet your height, his finger moving your head so you’d look at him back. Weakly enough, you did. “I want you to be a part of my normal life, angel.”

“I’ll always be here, you know. I’ll be standing in my usual spot upstairs, and you can drop by whenever you can.” You pressed your lips, lifting your head to avoid incoming tears. Meanwhile, he began shedding a few. You’ve hurt him big time, and you’ll never forgive yourself for this. “I still have one wish, right?”

Jeno’s sorrow was beyond his capacity, leaning his forehead against yours to kiss it. No matter what he could say or do, he already knew it won’t be effective. You’re affirmative in your choices, yet he still wanted to challenge it. All he wanted to know was why you’re doing this.

“Let me walk you one last time to your section.”

The black night sky had remnants of blue, motioning that dawn was approaching. Other figures gave their goodbyes to Jeno earlier, cleaning up their areas before they pose. Though none of them anticipated such a cold atmosphere between you two, they could only spy on what was bound to happen.

“My last wish is for you to let me go, Jeno.” You avowed, blinking your eyes with faux positivity. Your hands patted his blazer so it wouldn’t crease. “I already have a role to fulfill here, and you’re on the way to yours, future architect.”

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Only tonight did he muster his courage to finally admit it to you after giving himself more time to analyze it. Timing was always crucial, and the badness of it showed.

Deep in your heart, you resonated the feeling. But it’ll make things more complicated, and it was the final thing you’ve wanted to occur. Someone had to be the strong one, and now, it should be you. With one more compassionate kiss on his lips, you stepped inside your section and readied your position.

“Goodbye, Lee Jeno.”

The sunshine brightened the room, and you’ve frozen to slumber again.

All Jeno could do was drop on his knees, sobbing over your rash actions. Unknown to him, a single tear left your eye as you posed.

Regardless of what status you were in, the pain of it all remained.

Jeno spent most of his semestral break with his friends to travel or whatnot, trying to forget it all. Even if he aced all his finals, his efforts felt like nothing if he never had you by his side to celebrate.

The sting over his short-lived romance with you never diminished the slightest, no one whom he could express his pain about it to especially when Renjun drank the memory wipe potion that Athena initially left for Jeno by his desk.

Forget it all, and live a peaceful life. You have so much potential, my mentee.

- Athena

Perhaps this was the same thing Junmyeon drank all those years ago, but unlike him, he didn’t have the guts to. He still wanted another chance.

So every day since the new semester began, he spent every afternoon break at your section. He’ll be seated by the bench, doing his assignments and talking about his day while sometimes stealing a glance of your figure. Some habits don’t change.

He never got sick of the same smile you exemplified, falling even more for you. He’ll often wonder what you’ve been up to.

What are your new sketches?

Are you taking care of Mochi well?

Have you apologized to Sanghoon yet?

Speaking of him, he surprisingly scooted over to Jeno’s side. This was the first time Jeno met the man, and politely enough greeted him. Sanghoon interviewed the boy, asking all sorts of questions that Jeno had every answer to. The biggest change that Sanghoon noticed since he left was your personality. You no longer bite, but treat everyone kindly without bias. You’re always active to help him out in cleaning the lobby, and you don’t go easily defensive.

Once he found out that Jeno was the reason for that, he was overjoyed at the start and wanted to meet him some way. You were a tough cookie, but now you relaxed. That was all that mattered to him, hoping to know more about him from you. That was until Diana stepped in and told him everything that happened. Mostly, the bad.

Playfulness eventually bore love. The last time you fell in love was in the 80s and Junmyeon pushed you away, he recalled. This time, you’re pushing Jeno away because you simply agreed with Athena’s points.

This wasn’t right, but it wasn’t his place to interfere.

But then again, he finally caught Jeno for the first time today and this time, he was open to hearing his side of the story. Lessen his misery too.

“No matter how stubborn she is, she loves you.” He advised him, bringing out one of your full sketchbooks. As Jeno opened it, the majority of the portraits were him. Sleeping, smiling, laughing, you drew him from every minor detail you could spot like the mole near his eye and his crescent eyes.

A handsome face I would never get sick until the end of time. Someone I want to wake up to every day in the morning if it weren’t for that plate.

- (Y/N)

Towards the end, a sketch of a house unfolded. The interior was a fusion of modernity and old royal design due to its white walls, wide space, and the placing of less furniture, plus an open backyard. There’s another tiny comment on the side from you.

I was right. Joining our varying designs together is pretty. Maybe Jeno and I could live in a house like this one day.

- (Y/N)

If you loved him so much, why did you let him go then when you had all these plans with him? Even if he tried to understand, he just didn’t.

“Don’t give up just yet when she told you to.”

“Are you just saying this or something?”

“Well, Princess Diana passed this message on but after everything, I believe that she’s right.” Sanghoon gave his opinion, but Jeno was reluctant to accept it.

“I never got a proper explanation why she suddenly changed her mind, Sanghoon.” He ranted, raking his hand through his hair from puzzlement. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sanghoon pitied him, having the upper hand and questioning himself whether to reveal the truth. However, since this boy took the job, he’s succumbed to secrecy. Without any transparency, it could drive someone mad. He’s too young for that, so Sanghoon breathed in defeat and placed his hand on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Promise me you won’t be mad when I tell you because I was when I found out; almost screamed even.”

Jeno nodded, listening to whatever Sanghoon had to say.

Of all people, he never would’ve expected Athena to do such a brash thing. Someone he respected and trusted, only to betray him by doing something she believed was good for all. Except it wasn’t, and it ended up hurting you all these years. The woman he loved, now he’s a clearer understanding of why you did what you did. Yet, it can’t fix his excruciation.

Heartbroken was an understatement; he had no one to rely on. With Sanghoon, he finally had a proper breakdown. The older man could only comfort his quietly, picturing him like one of his sons going through a hard time in school. But if it involves the heart, it’ll take more time to recover.

“You’re always the one adjusting, Jeno. But I think this time, you’re the one who needs space.”

A Year and a Half Later

“Jeno Lee!!!” Jaemin roughly wallowed his best friend in a hug when he arrived in their dorm room for the first time in a long time. “You dyed your hair blonde again!”

Renjun, who was behind the two of them, only rolled his eyes as he helped carry Jeno’s bags. “God damn it, Jaemin! You’re supposed to be helping me first!”

“I know, but give me a few seconds! I’m just happy our group is back together!”

Jeno laughed at his friends’ annoying yet silly dynamics, giddy to be back home. For a year, Jeno spent his 3rd year of university in Rome, Italy after one of his professors brought up to him about a scholarship program there for his course. At the time where he needed a change of scenery, he sent his application form and got interviewed.

Acing it, he had the opportunity to fly across the world to study and travel. His English skills surely improved, even picking up Italian words along the way due to a required class for it. He studied the history of different locations and how they were built.

He also went on field trips almost every day if it weren’t for the Italian students assigned to tour him around, academic and non-academic. Nights he spent on drinking wine on the rooftop of his dorm with them, screaming his complaints in the world with them.

It didn’t hit him that his stay was reaching its end until he submitted his final plate. His goodbye party didn’t even feel like one, but a see you later in the next few years after he becomes a licensed architect with money. His goal of it felt more realistic, motivating him to excel in his remaining years in university.

After unpacking half of his things, he was reminded of an email from one of the head professors, who requested another copy of his confidential documents from the Italian university he went to as soon as he’s back on campus.

He raced to the department with a folder of them and luckily encountered the said professor. Handing it to him, this professor questioned how he was and what experiences he gained from the trip. With excitement, Jeno spoke all sorts of tales from his adventures, highlighting how determined he was now to be an architect.

“That’s great to hear, Jeno!” He celebrated, checking on his watch, and widened his eyes. Frantic at his colliding schedules, he asked Jeno for a favor. It turned out that at the same time as his emergency meeting, he’s supposed to tour the new transferee student around campus.

“Only if you have time, Jeno! I could always ask another student, plus you just came back and need rest.”

“It’s not like I left for a decade, sir. No worries, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, bless your soul.” He put his hands together in prayer position, bowing back and forth with gratitude. “Wait, she’s right outside! Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

Jeno nodded, exiting right through the department doors. This girl had her back turned, inspecting her surroundings. She wore a black and white tweed blazer that matched with her skirt, black high heeled boots, and a black handbag. She must be a foreigner, Jeno thought.

“Excuse me, are you the transferee in the department of Architecture?”

Jeno didn’t brace himself for the surprise he’d face once this girl reacted to him calling her out. Her face was one he could never forget, no matter how many times he told himself to. The same face he convinced his heart to stop beating for, yet it lied.

This radiant face was none other than yours.

Jeno almost dropped his phone. He tried his best to hold on to your promise, but he failed. It was the main reason he studied abroad; to forget and focus on his career path. So the least thing he could’ve done was to study hard for his dream career.

Just a glimpse of you projected back every single memory you’ve had together. Beautiful yet heart-wrenching, he kept his emotions to himself.

You even wore the rose necklace he got you. Could it be?

“It’s been a while, Lee Jeno.” You took the metaphorical scissors to cut the tension, trying to contain the crushing feelings. The faculty center was a public place, yet it’s like the two of you were on the main stage.

“Do you remember me?” Astounded, you nodded. Every single detail.

Jeno could’ve ran away, but didn’t. He could’ve left you hanging, but didn’t. He can no longer count how many times you’ve appeared in his dreams, only to be disappointed when morning comes to not have you in his arms. He took one step closer, taking his time.

“How do you know me?”

“You’re the boy whom I helped with his assignment, argued with me over Romeo and Juliet,” You mimicked his move, making you one step nearer to him. “And most of all, the boy I once gave my entire heart to.”

Another step, leaving a few inches between the two of you. His heart palpitated without caffeine. What if he was napping in his dorm again? It was all surreal. “Is it really you, (Y/N)?”

Hearing your name from his lips lowered your guard, you pleased him with a hopeful grin. “I’d be dust by now if I didn’t drink Circe’s potion, right?”

That’s where Jeno unchained himself from his emotions. He engulfed in a warm hug, one that has no plans to let go when his chin planted on your shoulder. You returned the gesture, dropping all your worries away along with your bag and papers as your arms snaked through his neck.

You knew you had to part ways for a while after everything, though you were unsure how he’d feel about it. You recalled every time he visited you after his job ended up until his intense chat with Sanghoon, where he bawled his heart out. You couldn’t take it anymore after trying to stay strong, crying as soon as you woke up that night.

All your fellow figures could do was soothe you down like before to the best of their abilities, yet this time, it was unsuccessful. You’re filled with misery, realizing later how much of a big mistake you’ve made.

You’ve isolated yourself again for a while, but less rudeness and more silence. It was until Circe visited you. She doesn’t like getting involved with drama, though now was different. She, alongside Hera and Aphrodite, couldn’t withstand you tolerating the heartbreak again. So they went behind Athena’s back on this one time and created a potion together just for you. But with a compromise.

“This potion can turn you into a human. However, there’s only a 10% chance you’ll regain all your memories from this place.”

“So I’ll forget everyone and him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You’re about to shoo her away, not in the mood to do something drastic as that. But Circe grabbed your arm again. “I strongly believe that if you and he meant to be, then there will come a time these past memories will suddenly surge at you.”

“Must I need to forget to live properly?”

You’re stubborn, and Circe expected it. “You’ve broken so many golden rules, (Y/N), so it must be done. I’ve gone against Athena for this potion, and rarely have I done that. So rather than wallowing up in misery, you should focus on yourself. Do what makes you happy because this place is trapping you from every great thing out there.”

Those were the word that the actual (Y/N) (Y/L/N) lived by, nevertheless, you’re unique from her. You built a separate identity from her. “But Jeno-”

“At the right time, (Y/N). Pull yourself together and do all the things you’ve dreamt of before he came into the picture. I just know he loves you that much, and that he will wait for you.”

That same night, you gathered all your senses and drank it. The transition was fast as lightning speed, and behold, you were like a new person. You’re back in London, with a family that closely resembled your former one; only 3 older siblings, making you the youngest. You also had a new set of memories, from childhood until your adult years.

From (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you became (Y/N) Edwards.

It took one drunken night out with your university friends for the unlikely surge of old memories to speedily hit through your intoxicated state. Way beyond a dream, you’ve dropped your shot glass and broke down in the bathroom of your dorm room. You left something unaccomplished, and you had to do something before it’s too late.

Thus, you rushed to Seoul thanks to your parents’ support as they agreed that exploring outside your home country was a great experience. The only excuse you gave to your friends for the sudden transfer was you finding a new calling.

Sure, studying abroad was an exciting thing but you’re more determined to reunite with him. Even if this encounter was unforeseen, it was bound to happen one day. It so turned out that you had the same major in your former university and this new one.

Head to toe, you remembered everything.

“I’m so sorry I took so long.” You cradled your head on his chest, unaware of how your new life left Jeno so troubled.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Jeno tightened his grip, scared of releasing you again. Those two years felt like a breath of fresh air and a punch in the gut. “I tried to live up to your last wish, but I really can’t.”

“I want to take that wish back, Jeno. I wasn’t thinking right and only ended putting you through so much.”

“Oh, angel. I slowly understood why you did it.” Before he got too fragile, he softened his grip on you and showed his face again to you. He wanted a better look at his pretty girl, his fingers brushing strands of your hair behind your ear. Heart-fluttering, you bit your bottom lip. “What would you want to wish for instead?”

“Instead of you letting me go, I wish you could take me back and love me again. I can’t undo the past, but I’d still like to think I’ve tried my best.” That was the only wish you could ever think of. As huge as it was, it was something he may not accept. Yet you gave it a go, risking it all. “I don’t deserve you at all, Jeno.”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N).” One of his hands grabbed yours, putting it on his cheek. Cupping it, “I’ve never stopped loving you, you know.”

Oh, love. An all-too familiar emotion that either makes or breaks you. Of all the times you could’ve said those words, you held back, especially that wretched night you two broke it off. Although you showed it, being able to say it to someone felt more empowering.

This was finally the chance you’ve unconsciously waited for.

“I’m stupid for not saying this sooner.”

“What is it?”

With intimate eye contact, you drowned in the comfort of his brown orbs. You trusted him then, and you trusted him now. “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

Secretly, Jeno anticipated for the day you’d say those meaningful 3 words. Just like you, he showed more affection through actions than words. He only admitted when he lost you, and never would he do the same mistake again. If he felt that the love was strongly present, he will say it aloud.

“I love you still, (Y/N).” His arm around your waist tugged you in further. “I loved you as (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I will continue to love you as (Y/N) Edwards.”

He peeked on your ID earlier, but regardless, he stood by his truth. You’re still the same (Y/N).

Finally, he closed the limited space between your lips. The memories of your past romance replayed in sync of every touching kiss, popping one leg up like in the movies. The Princess Diaries, specifically. Like in the museum from your unbearable parting, one warm tear freed itself down your cheek.

The sweetness of being reunited with you again beat the torturous wait of Jeno. Time really made your hearts grow fonder. As everyone said, if the love between two people is real, then it’ll find its way back to each other.

The world must be on your side too because no professor called you two out on your public display of affection. Jeno pecked your lips one time before stepping away, picking up the things you dropped.

“Now come on, I have to tour you around as instructed.”

You stomped on your feet, rolling your eyes from being left hanging. He’s still the same tease from before. “After that kiss though, I would’ve thought we could reschedule it.”

“No can do, Edwards.” Passing over your things, he wrapped one arm around you as he escorted you out of the building. The university was huge, with more buildings and green fields surrounded everywhere. “Left or right? There are a lot of places you missed out on all those years.”

“Point taken. Then you lead the way, my love.”

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